


A Thing About That Thing

by manic_intent



Category: Assassin's Creed, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Edward Kenway is a shiny new young pirate, In which Jack Sparrow and Edward Kenway briefly cross paths, M/M, Post On Stranger Tides, and Jack is as Jack will always be, piratical shenangians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:31:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack finds his trouble in New Orleans, smack dab centre at the bar counter with a bottle of rum quarter to empty. The bar's uneasily quiet, thick with cheap cigar smoke and old sweat, and Jack tries not to breathe in too deeply as he sidles over to settle on a bar stool, trying not to broadcast prey signals. His target, after all, is one of the true wolves of the sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thing About That Thing

**Author's Note:**

> The timelines don't exactly mesh according to both wikis, but I think PoTC kinda employs alot of fuzzy logic anyway. They're roughly around the same time period. ^^;; Edward is about 22 yrs old, freshly in command of the Jackdaw. No real spoilers.
> 
> PoTC wise, this takes past just after On Stranger Tides, where the Black Pearl is in a bottle and Blackbeard is dead. 
> 
> I forgot who originally was interested in reading an AC4/PoTC crossover, but uh. Hope you like this. ^^;; I don't think anyone else is going to read such an obscure crossover ... haha... but I guess just in case:
> 
> If you're heading over from PoTC fandom, here's a pic of Edward Kenway, the protagonist of Assassin's Creed 4, pirate and Assassin:  
> 
> 
> If you're heading over from AC fandom and don't know who Jack Sparrow is... eh... then you're probably one of the few people who have never watched PoTC... please go and watch at least the first movie. D:  
> \--
> 
> NOTE: this was written BEFORE there were any plot/char details of AC4 other than rumours. :)

I.

Jack finds his trouble in New Orleans, smack dab centre at the bar counter with a bottle of rum quarter to empty. The bar's uneasily quiet, thick with cheap cigar smoke and old sweat, and Jack tries not to breathe in too deeply as he sidles over to settle on a bar stool, trying not to broadcast prey signals. His target, after all, is one of the true wolves of the sea.

"'ey," he tries, when young Captain Edward Kenway of the Jackdaw only shoots him a brief glance before taking another swig of rum. The years have been good to the boy that Jack dimly remembers: he's filled out, grown tall - it's rubbed the rawness from his poise, given him an elegance to his killer's fingers. The brace of pistols worn across his chest seem well-used.

"Sparrow," Kenway drawls, and the wolf's grown up; the hunter watches him with amused curiosity under the shadow of Kenway's cowl. "What brings you to New Orleans?"

"As it so happens," Jack smiles ingratiatingly, "I happen to be in a wee need of a wee bit of a spot of help, and as it so _very_ happens, you are _just_ the man I was looking for with regards to said wee bit of a wee spot of help."

"And why," Kenway arches an eyebrow, "Should I help _you_? You're no friend of mine: in fact, I should say, you've been the _cause_ of some trouble to an ally of mine." 

"Actually, you could say that I helped said ally of yours to get one step closer to heaven," Jack corrects, "Died saving his daughter, did Edward Teach. Very noble."

Kenway snorts, though his fingers relax a fraction over his bottle, and Jack recalls a rumour he had heard once in Tortuga, that Kenway had a daughter somewhere, squirreled back in London. One of several, probably, given how Kenway famously tended to carry on with the bar wenches - but it seemed that there was some sentiment there. "Be as that may," Kenway continues, taking another swig, "I fail to see why I should help you at all."

"Curiosity, mate," Jack offers, because he's an old hand at bluffing with a deck of no cards. "And you owe me."

"Oh?" Kenway turns to look at him fully now, and the grin he's wearing is lopsided, wolfish. "Do I?"

Jack tries not to fidget. He's faced down Davy Jones and Blackbeard, and a host of other monsters in between, human or otherwise, but there's nothing quite so close as he's ever seen to the promise of death as the gleam in Kenway's golden eyes. There's nothing natural about _that_. "Bristol," he offers. "You were a skinny brat with freckles, and here I was, a swankingly posh captain in the EITC." 

"You weren't _that_ impressive," Kenway snorts, though his eyes narrow; the wolf's pacing, waiting. "With your ridiculous coat and hat. Big hat, big feather."

"Still, there you were. Young, stupid, with no dreams worth a spit," Jack reminds him. "And here you are now."

"I hardly think that you can take all the credit," Kenway drawls, though he downs the last of his rum and settles his cheek in his palm. "Well?"

"Pardon?"

"What's this favour?" 

"It has come to my attention through various reliable and not so reliable channels that you have a, a _thing_ ," Jack mimes putting on a necklace, "And I have a... thing of a thing that needs this thing to become un-thinged."

"You," Kenway notes, if not unkindly, "Need a dunk in the harbour and possibly a few hours to dry what's left of your rotted brain in the sun, while lashed to a mast." Wait, no - that was _certainly_ quite unkindly-

"You've got the Jade Eye around your neck," Jack concedes, a little sulkily - in his opinion, the magic of the moment gets quite trampled when plain talking has to be advanced, "I need to borrow it for a wee bit. You can even watch, if you like." 

"It's just a necklace. Not even one that's worth very much."

"Sure," Jack shrugs. "Whatever you like. Can I borrow it, or nay?"

As he had hoped, Kenway frowns at him, all the amusement in his eyes slipping away, studying him closely for a moment. Jack grins, swaying back, meeting his eyes, and eventually, Kenway taps his fingers absently against his cheek. So he _doesn't_ know, then. Lucky, lucky Jack. 

"Suppose I wish to trade," Kenway says, at last, and his lip curls. "My necklace for your compass." 

"All right," Jack says quickly, because he knows how to ride luck when he has to, and makes a show of reaching for the compass at his belt. 

"Wait." Kenway cuts in, and _ah_ , that boy he had met on the docks all those years ago is still there, then, in his eyes, curious and hungry; he's not quite all wolf yet, but he's nearly there. "I'm beginning to wonder what it is that you want this necklace for."

"That's for me to know, and you to trade for if you want to know. Look 'ere, Kenway me lad," Jack pats his shoulder, "This is me being all civilised-like, between old friends, eh? I could've stolen that shiny little gewgaw from you any time I liked. This is me being _nice_."

"Much obliged," Kenway drawls, and he's still young enough to have his pride: only Captain for half a year yet of his own warship. "But I think I could have chanced you being 'nice'. If you won't tell me what you want this necklace for, then I'm not going to lend or sell it to you."

"Just so you remember," Jack says mournfully, "I _did_ offer to buy it."

"I'll remember, _Sparrow_." Kenway pushes away from the bar counter, and in the shadow of the stair, a tall, dark-skinned man peels away on soft feet to follow him, another wolf, sniffing along in its pack. Jack motions for the bartender to give him a bottle of rum, and watches them go in the corner of his eyes. He knows the smell of death when he sees it, and the wolves and their kind have no real love for true freemen: theirs is the love of shadows, and quiet blades in the dark. The sea, by far, is a kinder mistress.

II.

The boy's grown up with sharp eyes and sharp ears, but Jack's been lifting wallets ever since he learned the use of his fingers, and it isn't long before he has the Jade Eye in his palm, admiring the gleam of it in the light of the moon, perched on a roof within sight of the harbor. It's quiet out deep in the evenings, the port murmuring a stretch of street and warehouses away, the tall masted ships spotting a sparse forest at port.

Gibbs is a short ways out, still at the inlet if he knows what's good for him, and Jack admires his prize for a moment longer before he tucks it into his coat. He starts to get up, then he hesitates, grins, and sets his palms behind him on the corrugated roof. "Nice night out, ain't it?"

Kenway grunts, padding quietly over to settle beside him, cross-legged. "You heard me?"

"I hear everything, lad."

"You mean," Kenway notes, after a pause, "That you're downwind, and you probably smelled the rum." He hands a dark green bottle over, corked: Jack accepts it with an archly haughty air, uncorks it and takes a sniff. 

"Heaven in a bottle." Jack allows, though he corks it. "Can I help you?"

"You stole the necklace." Kenway sounds amused rather than annoyed. "You're better at thievery than Adewale."

"I'm _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, after all," Jack says loftily, and Kenway actually laughs: there's a touch of surprise there, along with mirth.

"I remember that," Kenway drawls. "Give it back."

"S'mine now. Thieves' rules."

"It was given to me for safekeeping," Kenway holds out his palm. "And for your reference, I was advised to kill you for it if I had to."

"Thanks for the heads up," Jack notes warily. He supposes that he shouldn't be surprised, after all. There's no real way that Kenway would have come by such a trinket by accident. "Thought you didn't know what it was for."

Kenway shrugs. "As far as I can tell, it's just a necklace. But it's important to someone else, so give it back. This is me," he notes dryly, "Asking you _nicely_ , Sparrow."

"Tell you what," Jack notes sorrowfully, "What with you being so _nice_ about it. If you can catch me, you can get it back." 

It takes Kenway a moment to untangle his long legs from a cross-legged seat, and by that time, Jack's already shimmied down the pipe to the ground, beating a hasty retreat through an alley. In a straight out chase and run, Jack supposes that he'll probably lose in a heartbeat; but he knows the hearts of all of the pirate havens, knows their alleys and their secrets, and he ducks and waves through shops and pubs, through alleys and over fences, skirting patrols until he's on the outskirts, with the sprawl of New Orleans behind him and the fens beyond. He's not too fond of the rank, damp lands, even with the walkways, especially in the dark, but he takes his chances in Papa Legba's roads. Besides, if Kenway had followed him this far, he'll lose himself here if he's not careful. 

Jack gets almost to the inlet before he hears faint shouting, and a blade being drawn, a pistol fired, and he sighs, stares at his feet, wrings his hands, then cautiously picks his way back where he came. Kenway's a touch off the soft roads into the dark ones, half maddened by the sylvlights and the Things That Were; but he recognises Jack's voice and doesn't shoot him. Somehow Jack walks them out of it without the blackwater touching their feet, and then they're back on the soft roads, bruised and bloodied and out of breath. 

Unfortunately, Kenway's gift of rum gets sacrificed during their retreat: Jack eyes the whispering dark glumly. That had been a good bottle of rum.

"What was..." Kenway swallows. "What was-"

"Best not to think about it, lad," Jack says kindly, patting his shoulder. "Don't step off the roads. Weren't you told?"

"I thought I saw my-" Kenway cuts himself off, with a shaky laugh. "Aye, and thank you."

"I'll take it as you owe me one," Jack assures him, patting his shoulder again. "Right then, me lad, up and back you go."

"You have my necklace," Kenway points out.

"I saved your life," Jack retorts. "Possibly also your eternal soul, if any."

"And I appreciate it, but I need the necklace back now, if you please."

"I just need to borrow it for a wee bit."

"And just so you know," Kenway straightens up slowly, "I did ask if you could borrow it for a while, and I was told that you couldn't. So I did try."

"This isn't very pirate like," Jack notes reproachfully, "Dancing to the wyrd life's song. You've got to choose one master in your life, and the sea's a jealous mistress. She'll get you yet if you cheat on her, don't you know?"

"I have my priorities," Kenway shrugs, which is why Jack regretfully draws his blade, only to find out, ten minutes later, that not only has the boy filled out, but the wolf in his soul's grown quite terribly vicious for his age. Disarmed and annoyed, Jack cheats, shoves Kenway off the walkway and into the swamp, and hightails it before the Things That Were get tempted to check on all the splashing and cursing.

Gibbs is rowing them out to the skiff by the time Kenway emerges at the end of the road, dripping and stained gray and looking pissed off, but he's smart enough not to try and shoot them this close to the dark. Loud sounds attract the Things That Were from the half-light between the trees, after all. At least whoever it is who's been teaching the lad the ways has given him the lie of the land, or maybe Kenway's near-death encounter with the Things off the soft roads has given him some fresh perspective. 

They catch a good breeze, and Jack digs the Jade Eye out from his pockets to show it to Gibbs. Gibbs shudders, looking quickly away and making a complicated gesture with his hands. "You put that back," he mutters, "There be tales about the Eye. Bad tales. Best we finish our business and you throw it into the sea."

Jack has to agree. He's done his best not to look through the Eye, not yet, but it's been a close thing. He tucks it back into his pockets and checks the sail. They'll be quick to the Half Lands with any luck and the wind's favour: then it'll be him and the sea and his Pearl, together again. He checks the padded case where the Pearl's bottle has been temporarily and carefully stowed, closes the case, and tucks it back safe in the storage hatch. Tethered to the mast beside it, the small black billy goat bleats unhappily, but Jack absently pets its neck. 

"You'll be back home soon enough," Jack tells it soothingly, then feels obliged to amend, "Just maybe not all of you."

"I don't hold with torturing animals," Gibbs says reproachfully.

"I wasn't torturing him," Jack protests, "He's almost very likely to survive the procedure. Maybe."

"His name's Billy," Gibbs tells Jack firmly, "And he's on a loan from a cousin of me cousin, just so you know."

"Billy the billy goat," Jack eyes the creature's mad, sad eyes solemnly. "You're going to make a very valuable contribution to piratehood. Your sacrifices, if any, will be solemnly remembered, and if so required, your replacement will be purchased and returned to your prior owner."

"Sounds right," Gibbs concedes, even as Billy bleats again, then adds, "By the way, you did buy that thing off its current owner, didn't you?"

"Ah," Jack says.

"Because," Gibbs drawls, "I do seem to recall a bit of you running around shouting and us having to cast off in a hurry and him maybe being right after you, aye."

"He was just seeing me off, friendly-like," Jack says soothingly. "I was just borrowing it."

" _Because_ ," and here Gibbs crosses his chest fervently, "Them's the demons of the sea, Edward Kenway and his kind, all sons of the devil, haven't you heard; even Blackbeard used to tell the tales."

"You worry too much, Mister Gibbs." Jack tells him, with a confidence that he doesn't exactly feel. "They won't be able to find us where we're going."

III.

He's wrong on that count, though it turns out to be a lucky thing: they have to borrow a skeleton crew, and the Jackdaw covers their escape from the sea around the Half Lands, firing broadsides into the flanks of the Old One whose acidic spittle they had repurposed to open the seal on the bottle. It shrieks even as it dives, the sea churning into foam as it circles to make good another attack, but then they've got the wind now, and the open ocean, and the Jackdaw's nearly as fast as the Pearl in full sail.

They weigh anchor within sight of New Orleans, and Gibbs eyes him thoughtfully before he manhandles Billy the still-intact billy goat into the longboat and starts rowing back towards the port. He'll drum up a crew, hopefully a non-mutinous one, and then - Jack thinks that he's missing Tortuga. He's missing- "Ah, Kenway me lad."

Kenway's just climbed nimbly up onto deck, sleek and wet from the dive into the water to cross over to the Pearl: he's grinning, still young enough to have had far too much fun than he should have, firing on an Old One just a tail's shake out of the Half Lands. It's infectious, though - Jack finds himself grinning in turn, as he tosses the necklace back over. Behind him, the borrowed men are diving off the side, swimming back towards the Jackdaw. 

"Now we're even," he tells Kenway, who shakes his head.

"We're even about the paths. Not about your theft."

"Ah, lad, but theft's the way of life between thieves, and we be all thieves among thieves in a thieves' life."

"You could have told me what you wanted to borrow it for," Kenway points out, watching Jack absently stroke the wheel of his Pearl. 

"And that would've helped?"

"Maybe not," Kenway concedes, as he tucks the necklace back over his neck. "But I would have understood."

"You understand _now_ ," Jack points out, a little bored: he wants to go below decks and check over his Pearl, see what Barbossa and her stay in the bottle has done to her, possibly locate and drown the evil monkey, _things_. He doesn't, in fact move - the wolf's circling closer, and though it grins, he can smell the violence from it even upwind.

"I think that you owe me a favour."

"Well then," Jack stands his ground, though his hand itches to go for his pistol, "What'll you like, lad? I can teach you a mean spot of tango."

"Is... whatever you did... all that the necklace does? Undo spells?"

"'All' that it does, he says," Jack muses sadly, "All the magic be gone from this world."

" _Sparrow_."

Jack holds up a finger. "Now, there be some things it does, some it don't, but what it _does_ is open a door. It's a key that you're wearing around your neck, me lad, but that door be only to be opened when it wants to be. Still, it be a key with power, and a key with power changes the weave on many a powerful spell, just enough for a wee bit of mucking about to get a crack open. Savvy?"

"Do you know where this door is?" Kenway's at arm's length now, his eyes intent. "Adewale doesn't even know any of this. He just told me that it's an Order artefact."

"What be the use of knowing the whereabouts of a door that can only be opened when it wants to be opened?" Jack shrugs, "Ain't going to be any treasure in there that's worth selling. You could ask Gibbs. He might know." 

"No, I..." Kenway exhales. "I'm a year or so into... this." He gestures vaguely at his oddly white vestments, his cowl. "It's a strange life, and I'm still trying to understand the larger picture."

"People don't fall into your sort of life," Jack notes, as kindly as he can, "They're born into it. You've probably got a grandda' somewhere in your line who stuck his prick somewhere he shouldn't have. You don't get them eyes like yours with normal folks. And once you're in the life, you can't get out again. I've seen your kind around. Here, I'll show you something," he adds, out of impulse, and saunters over to the Captain's cabin. 

Barbossa is, as far as pirates go, rather neat with his treasures, and a stay in the bottle hasn't managed to damage his sorting systems. Jack finds the ivory scroll stacked carefully between a row of books, secured to the shelf by double bars, and he unrolls it on the large desk. It's a map of the world, with an arrow-headed symbol marked red on a handful of places scattered across the map. Kenway touches one of the closest symbols - in the heartland of the New World - and blinks, surprised. "Where did you get this?"

"Things come, things go," Jack says evasively, not out of any real need to protect Barbossa, but just to see if Kenway will buy it. He does - reaching over to roll up the map, but Jack pulls it away quickly. " _Mine_."

"You owe me," Kenway reminds him.

"Still in doubt."

"I'll buy it from you." There's a hunger to Kenway's eyes now, a wolfish curiosity, and Jack hesitates, wavering, then he grits his teeth and rolls up the scroll, tossing it over. It's not exactly something for someone out of the life to keep, he supposes. 

Kenway looks briefly surprised, but he ties up the scroll reverently. "Thank you."

"You can buy me a drink." Jack hesitates. "When I'm a little less busy getting reacquainted with my girl."

"Or we can forgo the drink," Kenway suggests idly, "And I'll keep the Pearl's captain company until his new crew arrives."

"Forgo drink? As a pirate? Heresy," Jack drawls, though he lets Kenway set the scroll on the table and lope over; he tastes of rum, spiced and warm, and he bites and gives no quarter: Jack will accept nothing less. 

Kenway's taller, heavier; he grinds against Jack's thigh with a grunt but he's winning, delving deeper into Jack's mouth until Jack's had enough with kisses for now. He shoves Kenway back against the hull, grinning feral and sharp as he goes down on his knees, and the punched-out gasp that Kenway makes as he does so is young, far too young still for a wolf's life, but there's not much of mercy in the tattered depths of Jack's soul, not with his Pearl back in his grasp. He gets Kenway's breeches down and licks his swelling prick once, twice, before swallowing him down, showing off, effortless even when Kenway whines and bucks and grabs at his braided hair, knocking off his hat, thighs bracketing his shoulders.

Jack knows he's good at this: he learned techniques from the best, all the way east of Singapore, and he smirks as Kenway's whines turn into moans. He's big, and it's good, in a way, with the weight stretched over his tongue and down his throat; Jack finds that he's groaning as well when Kenway finally bucks all the way forward and spills with a hoarse cry . It's a nice prick, Jack concedes, slightly disappointed, as he rocks back onto his heels, his arousal still pressed and caught in his own breeches. It's a pity that the night's entertainment is half over.

He's wrong about this, too, which shows the start of a distressing trend where the Captain of the Jackdaw is involved, and he ends up coming twice on his sheets with Kenway hilted deep in his arse, and it's a fine thing all around to let himself get buggered so thoroughly a day before he's meant to be meeting a new crew. It's a good thing that he's Captain Jack Sparrow, Jack tells himself, even as Kenway laughs softly against his shoulder and pulls out to curl on his flank on the bed. The restlessness is back in his eyes, and Jack waits for him to leave. He doesn't.

"This won't always be my life," Kenway says finally, absently - he's _sleepy_ , Jack realizes, a little scandalised. Jack's playmates are never usually meant to end up _bed_ mates. 

"What?"

"You said," Kenway yawns, "That I'll never leave this life. I will. I don't plan to be a pirate and an Assassin forever."

Assassin - that be the word. Jack tries not to shudder. "You're a soldier in an old war, me lad. You don't get to just step out of it whenever you want to."

"I know. But still." Kenway notes stubbornly. "I'll do it."

"It'll all end in tears," Jack notes, if sympathetically, and pats Kenway's shoulder. "But if you want to do it, I suggest that you stay with the sea. The Jackdaw's a fast ship. She'll outrun your shadows."

That's an outright lie, but Kenway smiles faintly, and stretches, and finally pushes himself up from the bed, stalking over to pick up his clothes, the ink on his skin curling black under the dim light of the lantern on the desk. "This has been... instructive," he tells Jack, as he gets his clothes back together and picks up the scroll. "Stay free, Jack."

"That's _Captain_ Sparrow to you, me lad," Jack retorts, amused, and Kenway throws him a mocking salute before ducking out of the cabin. Shaking his head, Jack leans back onto the pillows, and after a moment, he hears a distant splash. Captain Kenway is returning to his ship.

The Pearl hums under his palm as he pats her hull, and he closes his eyes, stroking his fingers over the wood. There's a pirate song on the edge of his mind, something salacious and wicked and wild, and he whistles a touch of the chorus under his breath as he listens to the heartbeat of the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> if you would like to discuss ficbunnies, I'm on twitter @manic_intent, and tumblr at manic-intent.tumblr.com ;3


End file.
